Second Chance at Love. Irene Brand

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СКАЧАТЬ in Mingo County?” Amelia asked.

      He paused thoughtfully, before he answered. “I’d only intended to unload our truck and go back home, but if I can arrange to take some of my vacation now, I might stay for a few weeks. I didn’t realize the extent of the disaster until I got here.”

      “Neither did I. I want to help as much as possible, and I need some rest. It’s been a long day.”

      Uncomfortable with the knowledge that Chase might extend his stay, Amelia stood and headed toward the door. She’d be more comfortable emotionally if he went back to Ohio. Was he really concerned about the flood victims, or was he staying because of her?

      Chase walked alongside her to the door of her sleeping quarters. “My buddy and I are in the room next door,” he said. “If you need anything, pound on the wall, and I’ll hear you.”

      “Thanks. See you in the morning.”

      Chase walked into his room, thankful that his friend from the church was already sleeping. He undressed quietly, turned off the light and lay on the cot, wide-eyed. He’d been awake for almost twenty-four hours. He should be ready to sleep, but he couldn’t stop thinking about Amelia. Memories of the past plagued his mind. He remembered much about their time together—memories he’d be better off forgetting. Seeing what Amelia had become, he realized anew what a big mistake he’d made when he’d let her slip out of his life.

      He stirred uneasily on the cot, a very uncomfortable place to sleep, but that wasn’t the cause of his distress. His marriage to Amelia had lasted for almost five years, and he kept remembering the intimate moments they’d shared. He was even more restless when he remembered the reason for their divorce, and who was to blame.

      Amelia awakened sluggishly, her befuddled mind hazily questioning why she was sleeping on a board instead of her comfortable mattress. She stretched, turned over and barely missed tumbling off the narrow cot onto the floor. Her eyes popped open as reality surfaced. She was in a disaster area of West Virginia, not her Philadelphia apartment.

      Cloud-darkened daylight crept into the schoolroom where she slept in the company of Vicky, who had abandoned her narrow bed and was curled up, kittenlike, on the floor with a yellow blanket wrapped around her. Rubbing the crick in her neck and her aching back muscles, Amelia thought the floor might have been preferable to the cot.

      Amelia stifled her moment of self-pity, remembering that many people on the first floor of the building not only didn’t have a comfortable bed, but no home to put one in. Moving quietly so she wouldn’t disturb Vicky, Amelia stood, stretched her stiff muscles and went to the bathroom. Allen Chambers had mentioned last night that there was a shower room adjacent to the gymnasium, but Amelia knew the disaster victims would need that facility. She took a skimpy sponge bath with water from the lavatory.

      She dressed in heavy socks, jeans, a pullover sweater and the knee-high waterproof boots her supervisor had insisted that she must have. Even though it was late April, this mountainous area was cold.

      Pastor Chambers had mentioned that the church women would be serving breakfast at seven o’clock. When Amelia finished dressing, it was half-past six. She called Vicky’s name quietly, and the girl awakened immediately, seemingly none the worse for sleeping on the floor all night. Youth! Amelia thought enviously, when she compared the young woman’s bright and cheery attitude to her own low spirits. She doubted, though, that the uncomfortable cot was the only cause of her wretchedness this morning.

      Amelia was usually more peppy upon awakening, and she knew that her exhaustion resulted from mental—rather than physical—fatigue. She hadn’t rested physically, because an overburdened mind had contributed to her restless night. Why had running into Chase caused her so much misery? She’d occasionally wondered how seeing him again would affect her. She’d never expected to experience the devastating anguish that had seared her heart the moment she had seen her ex-husband yesterday.

      Memories of the past smothered Amelia, and she called to Vicky, who was still in the bathroom. “I’m going out for some fresh air. I’ll meet you in the gym.”

      Leaving by the front door of the church, Amelia walked to the crest of the hill and looked out over the river valley. Below her, a two-lane highway, far above the river, provided some transportation. No trains moved along the railroad track at the base of the mountain, because the tracks were blocked by a floodwall gate. The Tug Fork River, the border between West Virginia and Kentucky, lapped several feet on the wall that protected the town of Williamson.

      Remembering the devastation she’d seen from the helicopter, Amelia’s faith faltered momentarily. Why did God allow such destruction? She considered the apostle Paul and the many terrible things that happened to him. His faith had remained steadfast during all of his trials. Why bad things happen to good people was a question she’d never been able to answer.

      Amelia hadn’t volunteered for this mission to ask questions. She was here to help troubled people, and she had to put aside her spiritual doubts and personal turmoil. Wondering what her duties would be today, Amelia turned back toward the church, praying that God would use her to make a difference in the lives of the flood victims.

      After breakfast, Rick Smith stood on a small platform and called for their attention.

      “I want to thank all of you volunteers for your prompt response to our needs. I’ve lived in this area all of my life, and I’ll quickly give you a brief rundown on our history. The first settlers arrived in the late eighteenth century, but the town of Williamson was organized a hundred years later. The heyday of our town was during the early twentieth century. Our population today is about five thousand, half of what it was a century ago. Many of our historic buildings were destroyed by frequent floods before we had floodwall protection, and many were razed to make room for the floodwall. Although it’s not what it used to be, Williamson is still a good place to live, and I hope you’ll feel welcome in the area.

      “Today’s most urgent need is to find out how many people need help and to provide as much comfort as possible until more volunteers and supplies arrive.

      “As soon as the roads are passable, several out-of-state churches will send portable kitchens and a staff to operate them,” he said. “They’ll do the cooking in a few central places, and our volunteers will take the food to the disaster areas. Today we need to canvas all of the flooded areas we can reach, see what the needs are and help as many people as we can. We can’t provide hot food today, but Chase and his buddy brought a lot of canned juice, water and snacks.”

      “How long will it be before we can reach all the flooded areas?” a volunteer asked.

      “The floodwaters are receding now, but representatives of the U.S. Corps of Engineers say that it will be weeks before we can drive into all of the affected areas. A lot of infrastructure has been destroyed. Go today prepared to hike into areas where the roads are impassable.”

      “When will more Red Cross volunteers arrive?” someone in the crowd asked.

      Rick Smith shook his head. “I don’t know. The National Guard brought in a few, but their helicopters are busy rescuing stranded people now. There are several truckloads of supplies stalled at the highway rest stop near Beckley, waiting to be delivered. As soon as the roads are open, we’ll have hundreds of helpers. It will be several days before we can get all of our supplies, emergency vehicles and more volunteers. In the meantime, we’ll make do with what we have. Today, I’m assigning you in teams of two to go out and assess the needs and help where possible.”

      Rick Smith answered several questions from the flood victims, who wanted СКАЧАТЬ